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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256710">nail polish</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shy_the_lawyer/pseuds/Shy_the_lawyer'>Shy_the_lawyer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Best Friends, Blind Character, Detective C. C. Tinsley, Disabled Character, Gen, Male Friendship, Mob Boss Ricky Goldsworth, Nail Polish, blind Ricky Goldsworth, disabled Ricky Goldsworth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:14:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,097</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25256710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shy_the_lawyer/pseuds/Shy_the_lawyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tinsley, will you paint my nails?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ricky Goldsworth &amp; C.C. Tinsley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>48</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>nail polish</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello friends I am back! Recently I made a post on my <a href="https://mobile.twitter.com/shy_the_lawyer%5D">twitter</a> and <a href="https://tumblr.com/%5BShy-the-lawyer%5D">tumblr</a> about how I like to headcanon that Ricky wears sunglasses indoors because he’s partially blind. However I’m not blind myself, so if I accidentally said anything incorrect/offensive please correct me!!</p><p>This has NOTHING to do w Unsolved I just stole their ocs and RAN</p><p>Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His eyes were getting worse.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">It wasn’t something that Ricky liked to talk about, but it was the truth. </span>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">His eyes were worse than they were a few months ago(he had almost poked his eye out applying eyeliner a few weeks ago), and the world around him was just a hazy mess of colorful blobs. Even the things in front of him were hard to see, and he knew that soon enough, his vision would be gone.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Which was why he had taken a break from doing the paperwork for his not-completely-legal business and instead was staring at the man across from him. He was trying to memorize him. The curve of his smile, the stubble on his chin, the sandy blonde tone of his hair, the crooked slant of his tie.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The other man looked up and smiled—hazily—at Ricky.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Something on my face?” He asked easily, calmly, the smallest hint of humor in his voice. So often he had taken a break from his cases to converse with Ricky, sometimes for hours on end, that he didn’t even bother to put up a fake fight anymore. They both knew what he’d rather be doing.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“As if I’d know, C.C.” he replied with the same humor coloring his own tone.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">C.C. just laughed and muttered a </span>
  <span class="s2"><em>yeah, I suppose you’re right</em> </span>
  <span class="s1">before getting back to work. He was working on a case that Ricky was </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">not </span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">involved in, thank you very much, but was still more than happy to help his best friend with. He’d been putting his connections “to good use,” as C.C. said, for the past few years now. He was still a vicious criminal, god help your soul if you forgot it, but he had settled down recently, as had C.C.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They were happy.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But Ricky’s mind couldn’t stop bringing him back to his increasingly worse visual impairment. He had managed to function most of his life with less vision than the average person, and he was alright with that, dare he say comfortable, but the rapid deterioration in recent times was starting to worry him. He had always known he would go fully blind, he just didn’t expect it to happen so </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">soon</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He took a break from staring at his friend and looked down at his hands, folded over his paperwork. He had glistening rings and black nail polish that was currently chipping. He picked at the nail polish, distracted. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Looking down at his fingers, seeing them half-painted, suddenly made him incredibly sad. He remembered being fourteen, sitting on the edge of the bathtub in his parents’ mansion and painting his nails with the polish he had stolen from his mother’s makeup bag. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He had found he liked it quite a lot, and kept his nails nicely painted ever since he had taken over the family business. It was something nice he could do on his own. It was so rare he got a moment to himself, to do something calm, and so he had always made sure to take time out of his business schedule to do this one small thing.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">As his eyesight got worse, he had started getting his nails professionally manicured. He didn’t like it as much as doing it at home, but he looked put together and it was relaxing in its own way.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">But his nails were chipping and he wouldn’t have time to get them painted this week for the first time in.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Well, in a very long time. He didn’t even </span>
  <span class="s2"><em>know</em> </span>
  <span class="s1">how long.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He briefly considered calling up the salon right then, threatening them to open up for him, but he decided against it. They were sweet and had never done him wrong, and he didn’t want to change that.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">In the back of his mind, a question was blooming, coming up the back of his throat, and choking him.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Tinman,” the name slipped out without his permission.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Yeah?” Tinsley looked up.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ricky, never one to appear weak, swallowed. </span>
  <em>
    <span class="s2">Just bite the bullet, Ricky</span>
  </em>
  <span class="s1">, he thought to himself. “Tinsley, will you paint my nails?”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tinsley stared at him for a moment, shock coloring his features for a moment. But as soon as the surprise came it passed again, and he replied with a simple </span>
  <span class="s2"><em>of course</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They stood up together and walked up the stairs, heading to the bathroom. Once they were there, Ricky popped open the medicine cabinet and groped around for the supplies before handing it over to C.C. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Ricky sat down on the closed toilet lid while C.C. sat down on the bathtub rim across from him. He opened the bottle of polish remover and put a few drops of it on the cotton swab, careful not to spill any. He then gently grabbed Ricky’s hand, cleansing his nails of the chipped polish. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">After a few minutes of gentle but firm scrubbing, Tinsley put down the cotton swab. He picked up the nail file and evened out Ricky’s nails, lightly blowing the dust away. He then grabbed the cuticle pusher and very softly, very gently, pushed it back on each of Ricky’s fingers, rubbing the nail gently with his thumb afterwards in hopes of soothing any potential discomfort.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">He then twisted off the cap of the black nail polish, dried flakes falling to the ground. He put the pot on the tub’s rim, and started gently gracing the small paintbrush along Ricky’s nails. When he was done coating each of his fingers with the sticky black polish, he twisted the cap back on and set it aside.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They sat in a comfortable silence, waiting for Ricky’s nails to dry, before C.C. decided to start up the conversation.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">They conversed about everything, from their jobs to liquor choices to high school antics. Eventually, the conversation topic looped back to work, more specifically C.C.’s boss.</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“He’s really loading on the cases, Ricky,”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“We could just kill him Tinman,”</span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Ricky </span>
  <span class="s2"><em>no</em>,” </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Both of their tones were colored with humor, smiles gracing their faces. Tinsley gently tapped Ricky’s nails, testing the stickiness. Feeling they were dry, he opened up the clear topcoat polish and started applying it to Ricky’s nails. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">This layer took less time to dry. When C.C. was done, Ricky admired the glossiness of his nails, the smooth feel of his nails under his fingertips. He put his fingernails up to his face, rubbing the softness along his cheeks. He smiled. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">“Thank you, C.C.,” he said, voice soft. </span>
</p><p class="p2"> </p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Tinsley just smiled back and muttered a soft </span>
  <span class="s2"><em>you’re welcome</em>. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading! Have a nice day:)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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